


Even Numbers

by yarukiswitch



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:17:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2230479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarukiswitch/pseuds/yarukiswitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>22, 24, 28, 30, 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Numbers

For the longest time, he was just a spell of drums, food and height; a lot of teeth, a pointy jaw, and a crush on Yasu the size of Hokkaido. They didn’t speak much. There wasn’t much to say that couldn’t be said by the others, so they often just sat in silence when alone because it was better than awkward conversation.

It wasn’t that Subaru didn’t like him, he just didn’t understand him. Too rich, too tall, too young, superlatives and adjectives and not much in between.

It doesn’t surprise Subaru when Ohkura kisses him, 22 years old and drunk, because he really doesn’t know enough about the guy in the first place. 

 

\---

 

A kiss leads to a Thing. A tightly coiled Thing, a secret Thing, a long-last-night Thing; a Thing that’s kept from the others and hidden amongst bottles of Jack and beer, mainly because they didn’t care enough to bring it out into the open. 

It wasn’t worth it, until it was, the pressure of Ohkura’s lips and lasciviously moaning memory enough for Subaru to accidently-on-purpose burst into the wrong hotel room on a late night in May. 

“Did you buy me a present?”

“No.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Why.”

“I don’t know what you like?”

He’s drunk, clicking his teeth and laying back on the bed in a way Subaru has come to recognize as dangerous. “You can fuck me, then.” 

He does, and they do, and the clock strikes midnight.

“I’m 24 years old,” says Ohkura, in that vague voice, and Subaru gets up and walks out the door.

 

\---

 

They run in circles, mostly around Yasu. Subaru knows the game, he always has; second best wasn’t hard when you were one of seven. It was just natural; he doesn’t miss the indent of either of them in his bed, because they were older now. Wiser, some would say, but that adage always seemed a little trite to him. 

No-one really knows when Ohkura and Yasu became Forever-and-Ever, with a dog and a house. Maybe they always were, and Subaru doesn’t miss the short, pitying stares from the others. They pretended they understood, why Subaru would disappear with Yasu and why Ohkura would tongue-fuck him after six beers and a random bottle of champagne, but when push came to shove, they didn’t. They probably didn’t care to, either, and that was okay, too. 

“It was only a bit of fun,” and it was. He really means it, really truly. Honestly. 

His tattoo removal scars feel coarse, and he rubs them absentmindedly while the band churns around him in organized chaos after band practice. 

He’s 30 years old. And for some reason, watching Ohkura smile down at Yasu as they pack up their stuff and make to leave, he feels it.

 

\---

 

“I bought you a present.”

Time hangs between them.

“You did?”

“28 pairs of socks for your 28th birthday.”

Ohkura’s laugh spills from him, and Subaru knows everything is the way it should be. 

 

\---

 

“Let’s go on a trip.”

“What? Why?”

A shrug. “I dunno.”

Ohkura drives. They go to Atami, because it’s not so far from Tokyo and they’re due back that night for a meeting, and they talk. About everything, really, about Yasu and the band and girls and Ryo’s crush on Subaru (“it’s fucking huge,” and Ohkura cracks up when Subaru’s face turns red), stopping at a roadside conbini after kicking sand at each other on a near-empty beach.

“I have sand in my hat,” Subaru whines, marching through the doors. 

“Better than down your pants.”

Subaru can’t fault this, and they go about gathering supplies for the trip home, ragging and smacking each other in a tornado of easy laughter. No-one notices them, or who they are, or how weird that Red and Green were hanging out. No-one cares, or thinks too much about them existing together as nothing more than friends, and Subaru knows that maybe he shouldn’t, either. 

Ohkura pays. It’s just a bunch of snacks and onigiri, but it seems to sum everything up. A good kid, always, and Subaru smiles. 

“It’s 2014.” 

Late nights, empty comments in Popolo about things and people he didn’t quite get (yet), Yasu - always Yasu - and a decade, plus. 

Understanding takes time. Time takes patience, and he’s managed to find some, after all these years. 

Ohkura fastens his seatbelt. Acknowledgement flickers over his face, and he uncharacteristically squeezes Subaru’s hand briefly before starting the engine. 

“Yeah, it is.”


End file.
